


Heart of Blue

by modestlobster



Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Gen, ResurrXion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2017-03-07
Packaged: 2018-09-30 09:54:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10160621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/modestlobster/pseuds/modestlobster
Summary: Reading up on the new ResurrXion titles, I wasn’t real excited to hear that ‘Blue team’ is going to be ‘mentored’ by Magneto (hasn’t that been done before…?) But then the thought occurred to me - what if Marvel had gone instead with (present-day) Iceman as the team’s ‘Prof. X’ figure? He’s the only one left of the (adult) original team, who’s both still around and hasn’t really gone off the rails from Xavier’s vision. I thought it’d also be interesting to see him in an actual leadership role - and being pushed to his Omega limits for that sake - for a team that he’d be really invested in helping succeed, since that ‘original’ group is the standard he has always held all the rest of the X-men to. And it’d be a good opportunity to show the parallel of the development of his personal life / identity, versus what ‘young’ Iceman is already forging ahead with. Being the ‘responsible adult’ for a team where his past self is still the youngest, could easily drive all sorts of character development, both for him and the others on the team. He already knows exactly who they all were, are, and become (in his timeline, anyway) - and besides, I think they’d all be willing to trust him more than Magneto.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was just a random ‘What if…” that popped in my head. But if there’s enough interest (kudos / comments), I might just be inclined to continue! Thanks =]

There was an unexpected knock on Bobby Drake’s office door.  
  
“Oh man, I’ve _got_ to stop grading papers naked!” He lamented aloud, for the benefit (or detriment) of whoever was rap-rap-rapping on his door. But he was, in fact, 100% completely wearing clothes.  
  
He grabbed up a stack of papers with one hand and rustled them vigorously, to make it sound like he was busy, while he poked his foot at a wooden clothes-pin mounted on the wall, which released a piece of string that immediately set into motion a Rube Goldberg machine of rolling marbles and ramps, dominoes and pulleys, rubber bands and pencils, magnets and springs - even the ceiling fan made a contribution to the overly-complex contraption that ran up along the wall, across the top of the room, then finally fulfilled its intended purpose of unlatching the door. Just like magic! Man, was telekinesis for _suckers_ , or what?  
  
“Oh, no.” Bobby pushed himself up straighter in his chair as the door flung fully open, revealing his ‘guests’. “Not _you two_ again…” He shook his head, quickly backing himself and his chair over to a duffel bag of gym (or ‘Danger Room’) clothes. “I already admitted my big secret the last time you ‘meddling kids’ came in here… So what is it this time?” Bobby quickly slipped on a pair of sport socks then jammed tennis shoes on his feet. “Did you find out that I always wanted to have my own ice cream tru— _urk!_ ”  
  
“Why are you freezing him?!” The younger, time-travel-displaced version of Bobby Drake asked in horror, as he watched his older counterpart struggle against the sudden invisible bondage that had interrupted and impeded his movement.  
  
“ _‘Temporarily paralyzing’_ him.” Young Bobby’s companion - the also-young, and also-very-much-time-travel-displaced redhead Jean Grey - corrected him. “And - because he was _literally_ going to run away screaming!”  
  
_Stop reading my mind!_ The older Bobby chided Jean, as loudly as he could think.  
  
“Stop reading his mind!” Bobby the Younger whined simultaneously.  
  
Jean pouted, then reluctantly relaxed her telekinetic grip on Iceman Senior, so he _could_ actually do some talking instead of thinking.  
  
“Fine, look, I won’t go anywhere.” Bobby pledged to the duo, while he laboriously finished tying his shoes.  
  
“ _Lying~!_ ” Jean muttered through her teeth.  
  
He gave her a look that said _Duh._ then sighed. “Okay, so what? Why are you here?”  
  
The two young mutants looked at each other hesitantly.  
  
Jean started the entreaty: “We want you… to be our…”  
  
“…Professor X!” Little Iceman beamed triumphantly.  
  
“Our _mentor_.” Jean rephrased it. “ _Like_ Professor Xavier.”  
  
“That’s what I said.” Bobby Jr. gave her a look. “Isn’t that what I said?”  
  
“Nope. No way.” Present-day Bobby Drake fervently waved both his hands in the universal sign language for _‘That’s a negative, Ghost Rider.’_ and coughed. “I know I look sort of bald when my head is iced up, but there ends my similarities with dear old Chuck.” He stood up rather urgently. “See, legs still work! You’re outta luck, guys.”  
  
Jean flicked young Bobby a meaningful glance.  
  
Older Bobby swallowed somberly. “Please don’t break my legs.”  
  
“…Then _please_ be our Xavier?” Bobby the Younger gave his older self the hopefullest look he could muster. It worked on most people; but it’s possible he’d be immune to his own powers.  
  
“You’re serious.” Bobby Drake sighed at his mini-me. “ _Me?_ \- Why me.”  
  
“Because it’s _my_ team,” Jean piped up, crossing her arms defensively as she set to work bashfully smushing the toe of her boot into the floor. “And _I_ decided that we want _you_. You’re the best person for the job.”  
  
“I’m really not qualif—“  
  
“You’re an _Omega-level mutant,_ Professor Drake. And you know everything that’s happened to _all of us_ \- me, you, Scott, Warr', Hank.” Jean sighed. “ _And_ , you still believe in everything that Charles Xavier ever taught you…” She pursed her lips. “Don’t you?”  
  
Bobby suddenly felt kind of old, staring at teen Jean and baby Bobby. Even if they hadn’t decided to stay here in the ‘future’ - he wouldn’t want them to fail to become the good people he knew they could - would - be. (He was obviously a bit biased about himself, but still.) Maybe he could actually do something about it, with them here, now. Make sure that Jean Grey survived; that Scott… wouldn’t do _all_ the stupid stuff that Scott Summers would otherwise do; that _he_ would finally reach his own potential; that Hank McCoy wouldn’t lose touch; and that Warren Worthington the Third wouldn’t lose himself. …Could he really do any of that?  
  
“ _Do you know who our alternative is…_ ” Fun-size Bobby whispered conspiratorially at his Elder self, then without waiting for a guess, groaned loudly, “Magneto! The evil magnet guy!” The boy scoffed, completely exasperated at the thought of it. “ _C’mon!_ That guy should be doing _infomercials_ ; _not_ the leader of the _X-Men, mutant heroes for justice for all!_ ”  
  
“The _‘mentor’_ of the X-Men, you mean.” Jean sniffed. Bobby _still_ hadn’t quite got the semantics that _she_ was the _leader_ of the team.  
  
‘Old’ Bobby sat back down in his chair and rubbed his hand over his face wearily. “You guys gonna call me ‘Professor Drake’ the whole time?”  
  
Jean shrugged. “It’ll get confusing otherwise.”  
  
Little Bobby remarked excitedly to his fiery teammate, “I think he’s gonna say _‘yes’_.”  
  
_Or run away screaming._  
  
**_I heard that, Professor Drake._**  
  
_Stop reading my mind!_  
  
**_…Sorry._**  
  
Professor Bobby Drake sighed. “Let’s go meet the team.”


End file.
